Bits and Pieces
by NamelessHeretic
Summary: A one-shot collection. Little snippets of plot bunnies I've yet to get around to actually writing in full. Most will probably stay in limbo. Some will appear fully fledged. Other might get adopted. Review, FOR GREAT JUSTICE.
1. Only Human

_**Bits and Pieces**_

**Number 001**

Only Human

* * *

Had it been any other night at the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, the twisting halls would have been rather quiet, save for the occasional sound produced by the workings and tasks of its personnel as they searched, groped, and poked at the dark mysteries of magic. However, these usual sounds had been replaced by an empty silence as a squad of the Dark Lord Voldemort's underlings scurried about in search of his quarry, a prophetic orb inscribed with the name of him and his nemesis, Harry James Potter, would-be Fifth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While it would normally only be possible for either the Dark Lord himself or the Potter brat to take hold of the sphere, the particulars of the prophecy within it allowed a certain flexibility in its applicants.

Thus, as the Boy Who Lived had essentially dropped off the face of the earth after some curious events at Little Whinging, Neville Longbottom – the other candidate of the prophecy – proved to be an acceptable alternative, especially due to his higher level of gullibility and lack of skill in all things wizardly in comparison to his fellow (ex?)-Griffindor.

"Now, wittle baby Longbottom," started Bellatrix Lestrange gently, "all we need for you to do is hand over the fucking shiny ball and you and your itty bitty mudblood _whore _friends can leave." Her face, once beautiful but now haggard and skull-like from her time in Azkaban, held the presence of an irregular tic just beneath the right eye, her tone shifting from childish and perversely nurturing to fiery and hateful and back again.

The boy, proving to have a heart significantly larger in size to his brain, had infiltrated (rather, waltzed in after Bellatrix and her compatriots had taken out the usually present folk) the Department of Mysteries on a mission to rescue Sirius Black, who had been (allegedly) taken hostage by his cousin and her pureblood fanatical cohorts while he stood with a gash in the side of his head and a trail of blood accompanying it that ran down to his neck.

It was not long after arriving that the boy and his friends had realized that it was a steaming pile of horseshit, albeit delivered in a very menacing and convincing package.

Neville held the orb in his left hand, pressing it against his chest, his other hand holding out his wand in what seemed to be an attempt at a threatening gesture. The young man had never done well under pressure, and the fact that his friends had been captured by this woman – the same woman who had driven his parents into inescapable madness – and the other Death Eaters wasn't doing much to improve his focus or confidence.

"Don't do it, Neville!" yelled Ron, his voice struggling to escape his throat as his captor squeezed it. "You-know-who can't get his hands on that thing!"

"Silence, boy!" hissed the Death Eater. "This is only going to end in two ways for you – alive, or dead. I'd suggest picking the former."

"You heard the nice man, little boy," added Bellatrix. "What's more important to you? A silly wittle ball or the lives of your filthy friends?!" Her wand sparked with malevolent energy as she stepped closer to Neville, madness burning in her eyes.

Neville gulped, shoulders quivering slightly. He looked past the mad witch, at his friends, all under the grip and wand of men who would sooner rape, torture, beat, and disembowel than kill them cleanly in one blow. Hermione, like Ron, tried to tell him to forget about them. Ginny was clearly upset, struggling to find a solution to the situation. Luna was strangely serene, as if none of this was a worrisome at all.

She spoke.

"Not to fret, Neville," she said with a light smile as her eyes stared upward from the Death Chamber floor. "How does the saying go, 'the cavalry is on its way'?"

And then, there was smoke. White, silvery vapor filled the room as the Order of the Phoenix appeared in a flash, and the pressure of anti-apparition wards encompassed the area. Hope filled Neville's chest with warmth, and he allowed himself to relax just a fraction of an inch. It was all Bellatrix needed, as she darted forward in the confusion, tackling Neville to the ground and wrenching to orb from his hands.

"Maybe next time, Longbottom," she sang in his ear, and then ran her tongue through the stream of blood on his face. "Bye-bye!" She rose sharply to her feet, orb in hand, and sprinted away from the fighting as the Order fought to free the children from her fellow Death Eaters. As she ran, she order over her shoulder, "Don't spend any more time fighting than you must! We've got what the Dark Lord sent us here for, now's no time to try and scrounge for extra glory!"

She cast a few choice curses at the Order members as a parting gift before taking a hard right outside the Death Chamber, her robes flaring behind her like the wings of darkly giddy demon. A like grin split her cheeks as she ran, fighting the urge to skip her way to the atrium. Nobody followed her as the Order was too busy trying to rescue the foolish teenagers from her comrades, so she easily made it to her destination.

However, upon arriving, things got complicated.

Bellatrix halted, her eyes staring pointedly at the man sitting at the fountain of the wizard statue. One leg was extended fully, resting on the floor, and the other situated with his body atop the fountain's rim, wand twirling in his hand as his arm rested on his knee, the other supporting his body on the rim of the fountain.

"Ah, Mrs. Lestrange, I thought I'd missed you!" he called, sounding genial. He stood, brushing himself off and then adjusting his glasses which reflected the light just perfectly to hide his eyes. He was dressed in muggle garb, a knee-length coat, blue-jeans, and a t-shirt with some humorous slogan that she didn't bother reading. His hair was, of course, a complete disaster, a mess of black locks. "I'm sorry to bother you, as I'm sure you're quite busy at the moment, but I'm afraid I must ask that you hand over that orb. It belongs to me, you see, and I'd very much like to take it home tonight with minimal trouble." He tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer, and his hair shifted to reveal a lightning bolt shaped scar just above his right eye, and his glasses ceased their reflection and magnified the green irises beneath.

* * *

Bellatrix froze, genuinely dumbfounded by the situation.

One: Harry Potter was standing right in front of her in the Ministry of Magic.

Two: He didn't appear to be afraid of her in the least.

Three: Harry FUCKING Potter was standing right in front of her in the Ministry of Magic.

Four: He was asking her for the Prophecy Orb, and not only that, but he was asking her in a very polite manner. Had she been somewhat sane, or perhaps a bit more the opposite, she would've found him charming.

To put it bluntly, none of it made a bloody lick of sense.

"Are… you really there?" she asked. Perhaps she was crazier than she thought.

He smiled patiently.

"Yes ma'am, I am indeed here," he told her. He began walking towards her, hand clasped behind his back. "Now, as I said before, I'd really appreciate it if you gave me the orb. It's not yours, so it's only right that you give it to the person that it belongs to." He stopped, standing only a foot or so from her, a polite smile on his face. He held out his hand, palm up.

She stared at him, eyebrow cocked.

"I'm insane, Potter, not stupid. _Crucio!_"

A current of red lighting shot from her wand towards the teenage wizard, but he swiftly avoided it with a leap to the right, and then away from the temperamental witch. He brought his wand from behind, preparing to counterattack. He sent a flurry of red jets of light, mostly stunners with a few bone-breakers mixed in for flavor. Bellatrix threw up a shield just before they struck, and the red lights splashed against it, blinding her for a moment.

"I wanted this to be easy, Lestrange!" said Harry, his voice no longer polite. "But if you want to keep this up, I won't hesitate to end you in this room." He was next to the fountain once again, and with a flick of his wand Bellatrix felt a dome-shaped barrier go up around them. While crude, it would take her a few minutes of singular concentration to break through it.

"Impressive, Potter," she spat, "but you'll not be able to kill me if that's all you've got!" She flung a killing curse his way, its eerie green light ripping through the air. Harry ducked beneath the green bolt and sent a torrent of water from the fountain crashing her way. She erected a door-sized shield in front of her, splitting the crashing water around her.

Bellatrix plunged her wand into the water, muttered an incantation, and then the room was filled with a dense fog. She quietly stalked away from her position, eyes alert and nostrils flaring almost like a canine on the hunt by scent. "Can't hit what you can't see, Potty! Just ghosts in the fog!"

She hadn't expected the bolt of green light that came flying her way from the distance, flying past her head and crashing into the wall behind her.

"Keep it up and I'll make that truer than you think."

Bellatrix was once again dumbfounded. The boy was giving her shock after shock today. She cackled, hiding her surprise with amusement.

"I didn't know you had it in you to even try, child," she said almost approvingly. "But I doubt your little light show would've given me a nose bleed. You've got to _mean _it." There, a silhouette! "CRUCIO!" she roared, the curse ripping through the fog, only to reveal a transfigured dummy as it struck its target. Around its neck was a sign.

SORRY, TRY AGAIN

"I hope you like games, Bella," said Harry somewhere in the fog. A blur flew past her in the distance and she whirled around towards it, firing a curse. "I haven't had anyone to play with in quite some time. I'm sure you understand."

She did not reply, knowing that he was only trying to keep her talking so he could pinpoint her location in the fog. She tried to zero in on his location; however he seemed to be augmenting his voice with a spell to make it sound as if it came from two places at once. In the distance she saw the dark blur again… and another, and another…

_Bollocks, he's conjured a doppelganger. Where'd this little bastard learn these things?! He's no older than fifteen! _

She huffed in annoyance, and reversed the spell she had cast on the water, changing it back to liquid form. It pooled below her ankles, splashing with each step. To her left she heard a similar sound, and she saw the Potter boy as he cast a ballistic spell at her, and she shot the chunk of flying rubble out of the air before it could hit her. The doppelganger had been dispelled, now useless as it would not make any noise as it tread through the water.

Harry shifted his posture, holding out his wand like a sword, his other hand held back above his head. He swept his wand to his left, whispering a long incantation, before lashing out. A phantom, gargantuan blade appeared in a light blue light, swinging towards Bellatrix. She conjured a shield, blocking the strike. The spell fully manifested, and Harry hefted the phantom blade high, a ghostly behemoth mimicking his moves, armed with shield and sword. He brought the sword down on her head, and she conjured another, more powerful shield. Barrier and blade met, and sparks of blue and silver light shot from between them. Bellatrix snarled in defiance, pushing her shield against the force of the blade.

"Potter," she said through gritted teeth, "what in the sphincter of hell have you been doing all year?! That old muggle lover would shit himself if he saw this."

"I'll take that as a compliment," replied the wizard, his voice sounding strained. There was a deafening boom as the ghost-giant's foot slid and smashed into the wall behind him.

Suddenly, the blade retreated as Harry brought his wand back, bending his elbow and gathering the giant's light at the tip of his wand, and then thrust his wand forward, shouting another incantation.

A lance of blue-white lighting shot towards her, and she just barely managed to step to the side. It tore at her robes, and she smelled a mixture of ozone and burning flesh as the electricity arced slightly and struck her side. She fought down a screech, and sent a flurry of curses at and around the boy's position. The rest of the lance crashed into the barrier he had erected, and it flared into visibility, a dome of geometric units, just inches away from the staring students.

* * *

Hermione gulped with her eyes wide and hands gripping at her robes as she watched Harry fight. She winced as he took a bone-breaker curse to his left forearm, his first real slip-up in the fight. They had fled from the Death Chamber while the Order members fought the Death Eaters, hoping that the five of them could take down Bellatrix and get the orb back.

"Harry!" shouted Ron. "Take down the barrier, let us help!" He pounded on the invisible wall, watching desperately a Harry flung a few more chunks of rubble at Bellatrix. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Hermione shaking her head.

"Ron, I think we'd be more of a hindrance than anything else," she said, her voice tight. "They're both way out of our league."

"B-but, the DA training we did," said Neville. "Isn't that worth something?"

"No," said Hermione, visibly deflating even more. "There's only so much we could get from the books, I suppose…"

Ron frowned, and then scowled. Ginny stared through the barrier, biting her lip. Luna just tilted her head.

"I'd tell him to turn that woman into a carpet stain, but the floor's made of tile. How unfortunate."

Hermione held her head in her hands.

* * *

"Oh, does your arm hurt?" asked Bellatrix. "Did mean ol' Bella bweak it?" She twirled her wand, a trail of dark fire following the tip's wake. "I could burn out the pain, if you want!" She sent a thin column of dark fire his way, a look of perverse glee on her face. Harry put up a shield, causing the flames to split and spread across it. Sparks and tongues of flame licked close to him, and he gritted his teeth.

_Shit, this is what I get for pulling out the big stuff so early…_ he thought, chiding himself. _I just don't have the magical stamina yet to go toe-to-toe with someone like her this long… and the barrier's about to go down. I can't keep it up much longer. _He stepped away from the shield as it disappeared and Bellatrix's flames ceased.

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" she shouted, waving her wand at the ceiling. The barrier flickered once, twice, and died, and there was an explosion as her spell struck her target. The plaster and concrete fell towards Harry, who stared above him with an expression nobody could quite identify as dust fell around him. He conjured a shield, which sparked and flared as the rubble crashed around him.

Bellatrix grinned as his shield gave one last flare before he was completely encompassed by the rubble her curse had brought down. The dust cleared, and Bellatrix shook with delight as she saw the broken arm poking out from the rubble, blood pooling around it.

"NO! HARRY!" shouted Hermione. She started to run towards the rubble, only to be stopped by an equally frantic Ron and Neville. Ginny, too, started running towards Harry, but fell to the ground as her leg gave out from under her. Luna was, once again that night, oddly calm.

Bellatrix was skipping as she neared the rubble, prancing in celebration. Her master would reward her very much for this deed, yes he would.

"I killed Harry Pot-ter," she sang, "I killed Harry Pot-ter!" She spun, prophecy orb and wand in her hands, cackling away. She knelt down, and grabbed the exposed wrist. "I'll bring your bloodied corpse back to my master," she whispered, "I'm sure he'll have many things to do with you! You, his nemesis!" She tugged, prophecy orb in her pocket, wand waving at the rubble to lift from him. She spun again, towards the students, pulling the arm free.

Just the arm. A wiry arm encompassed in a jacket sleeve, ending just below where the shoulder would've been in a bloody stump. Above and behind, she heard the rubble grind and rub as someone shifted.

"You daft, crazy, mad son of a bitch…"

She dropped the arm, back straightening suddenly. She dropped her wand, too. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her jaw tightened, flexed, and opened violently, a hellish scream tearing from her throat. Blood spurted out from her mouth, running down her cheeks and chin. She spasmed, twitched, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she screamed, before the sound of her ribs breaking filled the room.

Her chest exploded, a torrent of blood shooting from it and spilling into the floor. Her screams died, and she sank to her knees, before falling backwards onto the rubble. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna watched as Harry's arm floated suddenly, rising higher into the air, before rejoining with its corresponding shoulder.

Harry muttered something in what sounded like Parseltongue, and two ghostly serpents shout out of his wand and into his arm, sinking into the flesh and repairing the torn flesh and bone. He hopped down the hill of rubble, knelt over and pulled the prophecy orb from her robe pocket. He stared at it, a smug grin on his face as she placed it in his own pocket. His clothing was torn, and he seemed to have suffered a bump to the head as blood caked his hair. One of his glasses' lenses was broken, and he was walking with a slight limp. He looked up, and upon noticing his friends, his grin turned from smug to sheepish.

"Um… hey guys."

* * *

Hermione shook free of Neville and Ron's grips, which proved brittle as they stared in shock at Bellatrix's bloody corpse, and walked towards Harry, tentatively at first, but then gaining momentum until she outright stalked in his direction, face inexpressive.

"Listen, I would've sent you letters, bu—"

He was cut off by Hermione's fist. He reeled back, blinking away the stars that suddenly appeared in his vision.

"Okay, that's fair. I deserve tha-"

He got another punch from Ron. Then from Neville. He stood in a slight daze, trying once more to blink away the stars in his eyes and regain balance when Ginny ran up and kicked him really hard in the shin. Fortunately, she didn't hit his good leg. Unfortunately, she had hit his bad leg.

"Ah, bugger bloody fucking hell!" he hissed, holding his leg. He saw Luna standing in front of him. He froze, and a scowl formed on his face. "You can't hit me. I don't know you." Luna held out her hand.

"Luna Lovegood, Fourth Year Ravenclaw, friend of Ginny Weasley," she said with a faraway smile. Harry took her hand and shook it.

"Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Ministry Fugitive, Dark Wizard, 'Terrorist,' Fate's bitch," he said. "You still can't hit me."

He stood, the pain receding from his leg with a quick numbing charm, and sized up his friends. They were bruised, bloody, tired, and caught between anger, shock, and joy. Luna was an exception, of course, as she took everything in stride.

"Where have you been?! What happened at Little Whinging?"

"Where'd you learn all of those spells?"

"Harry, you killed her!"

"How's your spleen? Not infested with Gurglwitz?"

Harry sighed, adjusting his glasses, a habit he had recently developed for dealing with stressful situations.

"I've been to several places these past few months. A lot of crazy ass shit happened at Little Whinging, little of which has really been resolved. I learned the spells from amazing little doohickeys called books and tomes. I also learned a few from a drunk in Seattle – don't ask. Yes, I killed her. Hence the blood and lack of movement. I'm glad your powers of observation haven't been too damaged," he said, addressing each question. He turned to Luna. "And my spleen is fine, yes, thank you. I got a Gurglwitz infection removed just a few days ago, actually."

"Is everyone here all right?!" asked a voice. The teenagers all turned towards the hallway, seeing the Order members approaching, dragging immobilized Death Eaters with them through the air.

"Ah, excellent! _Accio corpus!_" One of the Death Eaters cried out as he was violently jerked towards Harry, who let him fall to the ground before grasping him by the back of the head. His mask fell off with his hood, revealing a youngish face, eyes wide with fear as he saw Bellatrix's corpse. Harry smiled, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a package. "You see this?" he said, waving the package around. The Death Eater nodded. "Good. You see _this_?" he said, forcing the Death Eater's face towards Bellatrix's corpse. He nodded even more vigorously.

"_Excellent._ Now, as to why these two things are important…" continued Harry, shoving the package into the Death Eater's chest. He caught it as Harry let go, shaking under his grip. "If you do not deliver that package to your Dark Lord – Voldemort, I mean, in case you're moonlighting with other genocidal maniacs or some kind of law firm – I will hunt you down and make what I did to her happen to you. Three times. Actually, I might be able to do it five times if I practice while I search.

"We clear?"

The Death Eater nodded, oblivious to everything except Harry as the Order members stared in shock at the reappearance of the Boy Who Lived.

"Fabulous! Now off with you," said Harry, finished with a snarl as he shoved the Death Eater towards the floo fireplaces. The Death Eater, shaking as he ran, fled into the green flames. With that done, Harry turned towards his friends. The Order, recovering from their surprise, started running towards the group.

"I'm sorry, but I need to go," he said, stepping away. "I'll contact you soon, I promise!" He turned and ran towards the fireplaces, ignoring the Order's calls. He reached into his jacket, grasping something, before muttering the portkey activation word and disappearing.

"Harry! Damn it," cursed Lupin, stopping next to the teenagers. "Did he take the Prophecy with him?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Um, Professor Lupin… what are we going to do?" He turned to the rest of the order, and noticed Sirius staring at the corpse of his now deceased cousin, then looking back towards where his godson disappeared.

Tonks looked at Sirius, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lupin walked up and stood next to his friend.

"Sirius?" he asked.

Sirius stared down at Bellatrix. A small smile broke out on his face.

"He's definitely James's son. A real _heartbreaker_!"

* * *

The Dark Lord Voldemort of the British Isles (His full title, as he was not the only supremely feared Dark Lord in the world despite popular belief), formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was not pleased as he sat at his desk in his current hideout, going over notes, letters, and ancient tomes. He had earlier sent a squad of underlings, lead by Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, to retrieve the Orb of Prophecy after the Longbottom boy had taken it from its shelf. It was supposed to be a fast, simple job. However, he had received no word from Lestrange or Malfoy, and his scrying tools confirmed that neither of them had the orb. In fact, Malfoy had been captured and Lestrange was very, very dead.

How could this have happened? The question had repeated over and over again in his thoughts, a question to which he had no answer. The elder Malfoy was now useless, and he had lost one of his best Death Eaters. While her death would no doubt set the rage of her husband aflame, he was but a fool anyway and would prove less useful. He had heard no word from that blasted revenant about Potter, but Voldemort sensed that he remained on this earth.

He was taken from his brooding when he heard a timid knocking at his chamber doors.

"Enter, and be quick about it," he hissed coldly but without distress. He could not have his minions believing that he was not in control of the situation.

The door creaked open, and slowly one of his newer recruits stepped inside, carrying a brown-paper wrapped package. He mask was missing, and he was much paler than Voldemort recalled when he applied the Dark Mark (which was, indeed, saying something).

"M-m'lord," said the young man, eyes downcast. "Th-there was… there was…"

"Out with it! You waste my time."

"It was Potter, sir, Potter was at the Ministry. He killed Bellatrix and told me to deliver this to you," said the man quickly, so fast that Voldemort just barely understood him as the man abruptly dropped the package on the table. "Th-that's all." Without waiting for his Lord's dismissal, the man fled the room. He would be dealt with later, for now Voldemort had far larger problems.

_Potter, back? And he killed dear Bella?_ This was most unexpected. Just a year ago, Voldemort recalled toying with a young, inexperienced boy who could hardly throw a disarming spell at a dead cow. The fact that he had, in a year, grown powerful enough – or cunning enough – to take out Bellatrix proved that not only had the revenant failed to kill him, but he was possibly not even close to taking the boy down!

His scarlet eyes turned to the package, and with a flick of his wand the paper was torn from it, revealing a box of some muggle substance he recognized as card-board, sealed with a colorless, clear length of material with adhesive on one side.

If you didn't catch that, it's tape.

After cutting through the material and opening the box, Voldemort found two objects immersed in shreds of paper. One was a letter, folded and addressed to the Dark Lord, and the other a small device that seemed to be designed to rest in the palm of a human hand. He opened the letter first, avoiding the clearly muggle device.

_Dear Tom,_

_As you might have guessed, this is Harry Potter. It seems that you and I need to have a talk, something that must be heard rather than read. However, as I doubt neither of us are willing to meet somewhere, I had to take alternative measures. Inside the package you found this letter in is a fancy little gizmo called a CELLULAR PHONE. On the face of it you will find a green button. Press the green button to turn it on. Then key in the below list of numbers, and wait a few minutes, holding the phone to your ear. _

_867-5309_

_Best wishes, _

_Harry Potter_

A grimace on his face, Voldemort picked up the "cellular phone," as it was called, and did as the letter instructed.

He heard a ringing sound coming from the small muggle toy, which ceased shortly after it had begun.

"Ah, and here I thought you'd be too scared that it would infect you with something," said the voice of Harry Potter, albeit with a hint of darkness and far more confidence than Voldemort remembered him possessing.

"I grew up in a muggle orphanage, Potter," he said, speaking into the mouthpiece in a hushed tone. "I know the basics of how to use a phone. Why did you send me this thing?"

"So that we could talk, of course," replied Potter. "You see, I wanted to be able to speak with you about the prophecy I just heard, and about a few other things."

Voldemort's heart sped up, but he kept his voice neutral.

"Are you going to... share the prophecy with me? Or must I dig into your mind and take it from you?" Voldemort scowled as Potter's laughter filled his ears.

"Tom, Tom, we both know that won't happen. If you were still able to penetrate my mind, it would've been me gallivanting off into the Department of Mysteries instead of Neville," he said, amusement in his voice. "It doesn't matter though, the prophecy I mean. Nothing we didn't already know."

"It is as I suspected, then," said Voldemort silkily. "We are to strike at one another until one of us lies dead on the ground?" He laughed, his voice colder than an arctic winter. "You're only human, Potter. I've several decades of study and power at my command, and you are but a schoolboy. Your progress this year is impressive, yes, but you don't stand a chance against me."

"_Only_ human you say?" asked Potter, a touch of irony layering his voice. "You are a fool, Tom. That is precisely why I'm going to kill you. I may be _only_ human, but you are _less than_ human."

Voldemort rose, one hand on the table, shaking in fury.

"What did you say?" he hissed. "Less than human?! Boy, I am nigh-invulnerable, I command powers you can't even imagine, I have armies that will destroy and kill at my word, I am superior to you, to the old man, to ever pathetic little piece of trash on this earth!"

"You, superior? That's a laugh," retorted Potter. "You, who could not stand going on as a man. You, who tore your soul apart in a pitiful attempt to flee from your inevitable end, you, who scurries about in the shadows, only able to justify your own pitiful existence by harming and destroying others. You kill children, innocents. You'd kill your own allies, underlings, anything that gave you less than one sliver of a reason to do so, all to feed your own ego. You are not a man, Tom; you are not but a monster. A terrible, incorrigible monster, too weak to go on with being human.

"And do you know what kills monsters, Tom? Humans do. Humans like me," he said furiously. Voldemort could feel the grin on Potter's face over the phone, a deadly grin, mad green eyes burning in the darkness. "Send your dogs, send your canon fodder! I'll rip through them all, send them all to hell, and in the end, I will stand over you and send you to your death! I don't care about the odds you seem so confident in. I don't care if it's one in one hundred, one in one thousand, one in a million, trillion, or even quadrillion! Even on the far side of a googol, it'd be more than enough for me to come at you! Your fall by my hand, I will end you!

"That's all I wanted to say," continued Potter, his voice now calm and not a little smug. "Now, I'm afraid I must go. It's been fun, Tom. Ciao!"

_Click._

Voldemort lowered the phone from his ear, his jaw clenching, unclenching, his fingers crushing the device, his eyes burning a brighter deeper scarlet.

The phone burst in his hands, sparking as his magic fried its circuits.

_Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. KILL HIM. KILL HIM. KILL HIM. KILL HIMKILL HIM KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM...  
_


	2. That's Not Funny

_**Bits and Pieces**_

**Number 3:**

That's Not Funny

Note: This one is, as you can see, a shorty, as there's not very much to it. Also, keep in mind that these one shots won't necessarily be posted in the same order that they are written.

Line Here

There was silence in the hallways of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Wizards and Witches of minor, inconsequential offence sat silently in their cells, too drunk, tired, or frightened to speak. It would've been difficult for one to believe that the area had been filled with noise just an hour before if one had not witnessed the Ministry's latest arrest.

It was not long before Commissioner Sirius Black arrived, long black hair tied in a ponytail and touches of grey at his temples from many long years in Azkaban and on the job (having been released from the hellish prison several years prior when the real culprit of his alleged crimes had been discovered). Normally jovial and deceptively youthful in behavior, it was an uncommon sight this day as he stalked through the halls, eyes frantic and mind racing. At his back were several other individuals, notably the Cornelius Fudge, Albus Dumbledore, and Amelia Bones.

"I'm telling you, Amelia, we need to inform the Prophet of this development!" Fudge said, his tone terse and frustrated. "This kind of thing can't be kept a secret for long."

"You want to hold that thought, Minister," said Bones, "if not abandon it all together. We're not even sure if it is truly him, and if it is… I'm not sure we want news of his return to get out."

"Enough," growled Sirius, his animagus form's more unpleasant side rearing its head. "I just want to see him. We'll handle all that later."

Dumbledore remained silent, the usual twinkle in his eyes notably absent as his visage more and more reflected his age. Ahead, the four saw a young wizard jogging towards them.

"Sir, sir!" he shouted, halting before Sirius and the others. "He's in room six, we, uh, couldn't hold him in the other cells, he, er, he made the other prisoners n-nervous," he said. Sirius continued walking, and the young wizard walked at his side. "He was in a pub brawl in Knockturn Alley, and was brought in with the others when the owner alerted us. We got there before anyone was killed."

"Did he have anything on him?"

"Yes, his wand, several knives, but that's all. He didn't wear robes, however, just a muggle style suit." They arrived at a door with the number six mounted on it. "Um, sir, you see…"

"What is it?" snarled Sirius. "Out with it."

"You, um, j-just be ready. His face is rather, erm, unique, you see," said the man, shaking. "E-excuse me," he said before fleeing.

Sirius ignored the jittering young man, taking in a deep breath and releasing it.

"Are you alright, Sirius?" asked Dumbledore. Sirius choked back a harsh laugh.

"I haven't seen him in years, Albus, almost two decades…" he said. "What if it's really him? What do I do?" The older man placed a wrinkled hand on his former student's shoulder.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, as the saying goes," he said. "For now, we must ascertain whether or not it is really him."

The Commissioner did not respond. He took another breath to steady himself, put on a stony face, and opened the door. The four entered. It was dimly lit, as these rooms tended to be, with only a few floating candles to offer any illumination. A single table and two chairs sat in the room, one silhouetted figure occupying the one on the farther side. He was in a relaxed position, his feet propped up on the table and twiddling his thumbs in his lap. His face was hidden in the shadows, the floating candles seeming to gravitate away from him.

Sirius approached the empty chair, pulling it out and taking a seat. His set his elbows on the wooden surface, steepling his fingers as his companions stood in the back, watching the proceedings.

"Evening, Commissioner," said the other man. His voice had a superficial jovialness to it, a kind of false humor. "Aren't I supposed to get a firecall or something?" he asked, a small cackle following. "I mean, I appreciate the hospitality and even the gift," he raised his cuffed wrists, shaking the device, "but I can't hang around all day. Things to do, you see."

Sirius showed no expression, nor did he respond at first. Then, he spoke.

"Feet off the table. Let me see your face," he said, tone neutral.

"Alright, alright, no need to be snippy," said the man, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

The other complied, raising his feet before letting them drop to the ground. He then leant over, his face emerging from the darkness. It was white, chalk white, ruby red splashed over his lips and along scars going up his cheeks. Green eyes burning against blackened eyelids, a lightning shaped scar just visible beneath his green hair.

"Now, _why so serious?_"


	3. The Sickness

_**Bits and Pieces**_

**Number 004:**

The Sickness

AU: For a moment, let's pretend that the Harry Potter universe took place ten years ahead of canon.

* * *

_Somewhere in the United States of America, 1999_

The man stood very stiffly in the alleyway, in a part of town that he would normally have never set foot in. It was quite windy, and despite sporting a great thinness, he stood easily enough. He hid a vaguely aristocratic face beneath a scarf and a hood, his fists stuffed deeply into his pockets. He was pacing.

Then he heard a very distinctive, and very familiar, "pop" just beneath the howling wind.

"What do you want, _wizard_?" he hissed, glaring at the new arrival. "Why did you call me out here, of all places?"

"Privacy," said the other man simply, wrapping his anachronistic robes around his faintly shivering form. Overall, he was quite outlandish looking with his robes and turban. He pulled out a stick – a wand, the man recalled – and with a flick the air grew warmer. "You are comfortable, I hope?"

"Answer my question. I won't put up with any bullshit from you people," the man snarled.

The wizard scowled.

"You don't know who I serve, so I'll forgive you're attitude… this time. My Lord has a proposition for you," he said. "He wishes to… work with you… Docker Brown."

"_Doctor_ Brown," replied the man, rolling his eyes. "You wizards are hopeless. And why would your 'lord' wish to work with me? I thought you magic folk couldn't stand my kind."

"Indeed, normally my lord would not bother with a squib," replied the man. "He has taken an interest in you and your studies. I understand you've done quite well for yourself among the muggles." He sneered. Doctor Brown scowled.

"Forget it, I'm not interested," he said. "Don't contact me again." He turned to leave, but halted when the wizard whipped out his wand and pressed it into his chest.

"Watch your tongue, squib," said the man. "My lord will not be refused, and I will not tolerate your attitude."

"And I refuse to work with a condescending asshole who's stuck in the Dark Ages," retorted Doctor Brown. "Go back to your fairly land, wizard. I doubt you or your lord could comprehend my work."

"Let me speak to him, Quirrel," hissed a third voice. The man known as Quirrel paled, and Doctor Brown raised an eyebrow.

"Are you certain master? Are you strong enough?" asked Quirrel, lowering his wand. He wrung his hands.

"Yes, Quirrel," snarled the voice impatiently. "I will speak with him!"

Quirrel nodded, pocketed his wand, and raised his hands to his turban. Doctor Brown backed away slightly, brow furrowing. The wizard unwound the turban, the purple cloth slowly revealing an entirely bald head and strange, misshapen ears. He allowed the cloth to fall on his shoulders, and he turned. A second face, on the back of Quirrel's head, stared at Doctor Brown with crimson eyes.

"Hello, Doctor Brown. I am Lord Voldemort," said the face. Doctor Brown just stared, and tilted his head. "I see you have not heard of me. No matter, you will learn. I know much about you, though. You have degrees in molecular biology, biochemistry, and a Doctorate in Microbiology. You are also an expert on viruses, plasmids, and recombinant DNA and RNA. That's quite a résumé."

Doctor Brown gave a low whistle.

"And that's quite a vocabulary for a wizard," he replied. "Now, do you know what any of that means?"

"Enough to know you are a very talented and brilliant man, Doctor Brown," said Voldemort. "I believe science is but a more subtle sorcery, so I am not entirely ignorant of it and its… applications. In fact, I've done some experimentation as well in the realms of magic. We are not so different."

"Ah-huh…" replied Doctor Brown. "And what would the great Lord Voldemort want with my skills? I thought squibs and the like were beneath you and your kind."

"Normally, yes… but I am also aware of some of your other research," said Voldemort. He smiled as Brown's eyes widened and he stiffened. "I offer you a deal, Doctor Brown. If you work with me in a certain endeavor I've been working on for several years now, I will assist you in finding a cure."

Doctor Brown backed away, putting a hand to his mouth.

"A cure… yes…" he said, a grin forming on his face.

"Indeed, Doctor Brown. A cure. For you. For squibs."

"And you want my help in return, in your research? What is it?"

Voldemort laughed coldly.

"Tell me, Doctor… have you ever heard of an Inferius?"


End file.
